


I'll Find You

by Dragon_King



Series: I Know Your Secret [2]
Category: Death Note
Genre: Anxiety, Bi-sexual characters, Blood, Death Note - Freeform, Depression, F/F, F/M, Gay Male Character, Gore, H Hilla (Original Character), L Lawliet - Freeform, Longing, M/M, Nightmares, Orien Nanase (Original Character) - Freeform, Pining, Romance, Ryuk - Freeform, Violence, lgbtq+
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:08:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27907990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragon_King/pseuds/Dragon_King
Summary: The Kira Case is over, and Ori's ex-best friend/mother's killer Light Yagami is dead, and now Ori's trying to move on with her life. Her next step is to find her father who disappeared when she was little. There are no leads, no eyewitnesses, nothing. She doesn't know where to go or how to start, but she's going to try. Her biggest fear is that she won't like the answer she gets.Book 2 to 'I Know Your Secret'
Relationships: L&Original Female Character, LxOC - Relationship, Original Female Character&Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Male Character&Original Female Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: I Know Your Secret [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2043598
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	1. When You Dream

Ori stared down at his sleeping face, heart clenched tight. She wanted to wake him, if only briefly, to say goodbye, but she knew that if he looked at her with those warm black pools, she'd never be able to leave. The most she could do without falling apart was leave a letter and hope that he's still asleep by the time she closes the door. 

She moved around the room, silently stuffing clothes into suitcases, and writing her letter at the table in the kitchen. Even in her words, she couldn't be as truthful and loving as she wanted to be, but she knew that Lawliet would understand what she was trying to say. Just before Lawliet and Ori went back to her room the night before, Watari had pulled her aside and told her both his and L's real name. While she wrote her letter, she whispered the name to herself. It was elegant, not quite like him, and yet the name fit him perfectly. 

The door was open and the hallway beckoning, and yet she couldn't bear to leave just yet. She turned on her heel and tip-toed back to the bed, seeing the black lashes brushing over white skin. The circles under his eyes as dark as ever. She brushed her thumb over his smooth cheek, feeling the coolness radiating off his skin. With a wobbly mouth, she leaned forward carefully to briefly press her lips against his forehead.

"I'm sorry, love." She whispered into his skin. She paused for a moment, waiting for his breathing to change or him to move, but he stayed silent and still under the covers. It only made Ori's heart hurt more. 

She slowly let the door click closed behind her, the silence stretching on, vast and deafening. The wheels of her suitcases rolled over the carpeted floor until she made it to the elevator. She slowly descended down to the lobby where Wammy was waiting in front of a car, door open. 

"Thank you for doing this." She said. He smoothed a gloved hand over her head as if trying to tame the wild curls. 

"Of course, Ori. You left him a letter, correct?"

"Two letters." She confirmed. He nodded and gestured for her to step into the black limo. 

"This will take you to the nearest airport. Here's your passport," he handed her the small booklet.

"It's set for Spain. I know that might not be helpful, but I find that it's usually good to start far away, broaden your scope and such." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a fat roll of colorful paper money. He pressed it into her hand. "This is over four-hundred-thousand Euros, please be careful with how you spend it." She curled her hands around the roll, tucking it into her front suitcase pocket.

He pressed a chaste kiss to the top of her head. The action was alarmingly father-like. "Please be safe, Ori." His gray eyes shined with unshed tears and Ori felt her eyes react in kind. She tried to smile, but the action felt weak. 

"I will. Thank you, Quil." With a smile, he shut the car door, standing outside as the driver pulled away from the sidewalk and down the almost empty road. Anyone who drove to work would already be there, leaving the roads bare.

They might have been going to the nearest airport, but that didn't mean the drive itself wasn't long. Ori wished she had a book to read until they pulled into the parking lot, but all she had were her clothes, passport, and giant stand of Spanish money that made her paranoid that she was going to get mugged as soon as she stepped onto Spain's sand. It didn't help that she didn't speak a lick of Spanish, but that was something she'd have to pick up along the way. 

She thought about trying to make conversation with her driver, an older man with graying hair combed over a bald spot, but he looked tired and Ori figured she'd just let him do his job without being pestered. 

That thought was completely thrown out the window when the driver cleared his throat and began speaking. His voice was a deep timber that made Ori almost jump.

"If you don't mind me asking, how do you know L and Watari?" He looked at her through the review mirror, his eyes were a dark blue.

"I helped L solve the Kira Case. He's-uh-he's a friend of mine." She averted her eyes from the mirror, already seeing the red coming up from under her shirt collar.

"A friend, huh? Never thought I'd see the day where L had real friends."

"It wasn't all that hard. You just have to get used to the guy's weird quirks."

"Amen to that."

Despite the long car ride, they didn't talk after that. The driver pulled into the airport parking lot, shifting the limo into park. 

"Thank you," Ori said, opening the door and dragging her suitcases out with her. 

"Do you need any help?" He asked, eyes drifting over her hands wearily. 

"No, thank you, but I have it from here." She closed the door, watching as the limo drove away.

"Woah! That's a snazzy limo!" A woman's voice made Ori turn around. She found herself face to face with a beautiful young woman with black hair and dark brown eyes. She was wearing simple black jeans and a white button-down shirt. "That's a nice ride you got yourself." Ori's face burned as she shook her head and hands viciously.

"No-no it's not mine. A friend was just giving me a ride to the airport." Well, it technically wasn't a lie. 

The woman looked at her through narrowed eyes, then let it go with a bright smile. "Cool! Well, Orien Nanase, I'll be your captain for your flight to Spain." Ori blinked widely. What? How did?

"How do you..." 

"Wammy called me on your drive here. My name's Hilla, but you can call me 'H'." Her smile was wide and so clearly cheerful that Ori had a hard time connecting the dots.

"H? Wait. Does that mean-"

"That I'm friends with L? Yes."

"That's not quite was I was going to ask, but okay."

"Oh! Well, anyway, I grew up with L, and Wammy's like my dad, so when he asked me for a favor, how could I say no?"

"I can think of at least one way," Ori said. H surprised her by breaking into loud laughter. She came closer and threw an arm over Ori's shoulders. 

"I like you! No one would wonder why Lawliet loves you so much." The red in Ori's face that had just been dying down came back in full force. She spluttered under H's grasp, earning another round of laughter.

"Did Quil tell you about that?"

"I told you that I grew up with L. How did you think he got to be such a great detective?"

"I-uh-I don't know; he never told me." H quirked her eyebrows up in surprise.

"Really? Well, I guess that does make sense when there was a deranged killer on the loose." Ori's tight shoulders slumped down.

"Yeah." H noticed the clear change in Ori's behavior and leaned forward to see her face.

"Sorry, was that a sore spot for you?" She retracted her arm, and the heat left. 

"No, it's just-" her tone dropped off. How could she explain it? How could she explain that her dead best friend was Kira? Well, just like that, but there's no way she could say it without feeling like an absolute moron. 

"It's complicated." H didn't laugh again or try to pry into Ori's personal life. She just nodded solemnly and turned away to walk towards a small white plane. It was still big, but much smaller than the commercial airplanes Ori had been expecting to ride.

"I feel you there. There's complicated shit all around."

Riding the plane with H was really cool. She got to sit in the front in the co-pilot seat and listen to H tell her all about the kinds of people she's flown around the world. Ori liked to listen, but watching the green stretch along the ground, it only reminded her of how much further away she was getting from Kanto. From her home. 

From Lawliet. 


	2. Just a Trim

Just over a month in Spain, and Ori still barely knew any of the language. She didn't even know what she was looking for, but she knew she'd have no way of finding it unless she started learning Spanish. 

H knew, but she had left after helping Ori get to her hotel room. She managed to begin to understand the number system, but that was only because Ori relied on those numbers to pay for her food. Normally, she just pointed at what she wanted and listened for any words she knew were numbers. Seriously, as much as Ori appreciated Quil, he could've at least picked an English speaking country. 

She was able to meet someone who spoke English, granted it was very broken and Ori often had a hard time figuring out what he was saying half the time, but it was English nonetheless. He tried helping Ori learn Spanish, but it was hard when he barely knew any English. Most of the time, he would just point at something, say its name in Spanish, and Ori would either write it down in a notebook she bought on her first day, or hope that she could remember long enough to make it through the day. For the most part, her knowledge didn't extend beyond numbers and fruit. 

The temperature was nice though. April in Madrid came in with the highs in the sixties, letting Ori dress in jeans and jackets during the day, while she could curl up in her warm blankets. 

She still had nightmares though, and now that Lawliet wasn't there to gently lull her from them or comfort her when she woke up gagging and in cold sweats, she was completely on her own. She'd wake up gasping, crying, not just from nightmares about Vivian, but now Light was haunting her in her sleep. His eyes would be dead, seemingly staring into her soul while he chanted with unmoving lips. 

_I killed Vivian._

_I killed Vivian._

He'd step closer, eyes beginning to bleed, and mouth twitching like it was trying to break free from invisible stitches. He'd grip her by the throat and squeeze until black spots danced in Ori's eyes. When his mouth opened, the sound of tearing flesh echoed into Ori's mind. His lips were bloody and raw, red stained his teeth.

_"I should have killed you too."_ His voice was rough and guttural, like swallowing gravel. His blunt nails dug into her skin, sharp and prickly.

_"You were a thorn in my side for so long. I should've just gotten rid of you when I had the chance. Imagine what L would think. What would he do? Fight harder or completely give up?"_

That's when she'd wake up. Feeling sick and gasping for air she couldn't get enough of. She never told Mateo about the nightmares because he offered to let her stay in his house after she started getting stressed out about hotel money and she didn't want to start loading all of her shit on him when his wife was pregnant with their second kid and the first was a ten-year-old asshole with no sense of personal space or boundaries. Ori seriously wondered how Vivian had put up with her when she started seeing how stressed Mateo and Luciana were. 

Luciana spoke better English than Mateo, though not by much. She was able to help her more, but she was six months pregnant and constantly in pain, so Ori tended to keep her distance. Part of her hoped she'd be moving on before she gave birth, then she'd feel bad for it and fight off the urge to apologize even though they'd have no idea what she was apologizing for. 

She still had no leads to finding her father, but she also didn't exactly know what she was looking for. Was it a person? An object? Ori really had no clue. Why Spain? _Why. Spain._

_Broaden your scope_. 

Yeah, easier said than done. 

Ori wrapped her jacket tighter around her. The days were going to be getting warmer soon, but the wind right now said otherwise. The sky was overcast and if Ori really paid attention, she could hear the low rumble of thunder far off in the distance. 

Madrid was beautiful, with large, reaching buildings that lit up with different lights at night, but because the buildings were so long and tall, they served as a wind tunnel. The harsh breeze smacked into Ori's face and she yanked her hood over her head to shield her eyes. Maybe Lawliet had been right and she should invest in a hat and gloves. 

_Hard to believe that was only in December._ She thought. That felt like such a long time ago. Just four months ago, Ori was letting Lawliet eat at her house with her mom. Strange.

"Excuse me, miss." A hand on Ori's shoulder made her freeze. Her breath halted in her lungs and she slowly turned around, cautious. It was a boy with bright pink hair styled into an undercut with curls twisting on top of his head, a loose curl resting over a gray eye. The most relieving part was that he spoke English. She almost burst into tears. After weeks of not understanding anyone, this was a breath of fresh air. 

"Can I help you?" She asked cautiously. He couldn't have been much older than her, probably only twenty.

"I'm sorry, but can you help me. I work at a salon just over there," He pointed to a small section in a long row of stores. It was tucked further into the wall than the others, with black and white marble pillars holding up a smooth, gray stone overhead.

"And my mom told me that I need at least ten customers by the end of the week or else she's pulling me out of school. Please come inside, if only for a trim." His gray eyes were sharp, but pleading. Ori felt bad for him. 

"What's your name?" She asked. 

"Nicolás," he said, "but everyone calls me Nico." Ori fingered the ends of her hair. It was long and heavy and Ori was already procrastinating about getting her hair cut before she left Japan. Not to mention she still had that money Quil had given her. 

"All right, Nicolás. I've been meaning to get my haircut for a while now." With the smile he gave her, you'd think she'd cured cancer. 

"Oh, thank you, so much. _Gracias, gracias, gracias._ " That was the day Ori learned that _gracias_ meant _thank you_.

"It's no problem, but how many customers have you had so far?"

"Six! And after you, it'll be seven!"

"But it's Saturday. All week you've only had six customers?"

"Yeah, well, I've only been working here for three weeks, and not many people trust me with their appearance yet." He opened the door for her and she walked inside.

It was comfortably warm, and the inside matched the outside; it would've been weird if it hadn't. Black and white marble tiled floors and black chairs with gold metal accents on the wheels and that one pedal thing that made the chair rise. Ori didn't know what it was called.

The place wasn't packed, but Ori could tell that people liked the place. Ten chairs lined both walls going back, all seated in front of mirrors lined with light bulbs. Ori could count twelve people in chairs. Three woman, eight men, and a little kid with a sucker in his mouth.

Nico gestured over to a chair of her own to sit in. He gently pulled her hair up to keep it from getting caught in the chair and looked at her in the reflection of the mirror. He wrapped a long cloth around her front and clipped it together in the back.

"Any requests?" She just shrugged.

"I don't really care. As long as I don't look like a drowned rat, it's fine." Nico nodded, mouth pursed in concentration as he spun her around and leaned the chair back to let her hair pool into the sink below the mirror. 

"You don't look like you're from around here." Nico pulled the hose out and turned it on. Water hit her hair, the warm sensation helped her relax. "I sure as hell've never seen you here before."

"I'm actually from Japan." Nico cocked his brow, putting the small showerhead back in its place and grabbing a bottle of shadow to massage into her chair.

"You don't look Japanese either." Then his eyes went wide. "I'm sorry! That was rude, wasn't it?" Ori just waved it off from under the cloth.

"It's fine. I used to get that a lot in my home town. I'm actually Japanese-American. My mom was from California and moved here after meeting my dad. I look more like her."

"I bet. Hey, I never caught your name." For a moment, Ori considered using her fake name out of sheer paranoia. But Kira was gone. But so was Ryuk. Who was to know if he dropped the Death Note? But if she used her nickname instead of her full name, it would be find, right?

"Ori Nanase."

"Well, Ori Nanase, your English is very good."

"So's yours." He gave an embarrassed laugh and washed the shampoo from her hair, now reaching for the conditioner. His hands were gentle but thorough as they worked along her scalp. She let her eyes close with a soft hum.

"Thanks, like you, I have a parent from America. My mom's from New Jersey. She's an electrician." His hands left te confines of her hair and began rinsing out the excess conditioner. 

"That's cool. My mom was a therapist."

"And your dad?" Ori thought about lying again, but she thought it would be funny if Nico found it cool that she had decided to go half way around the world to find him. She was nothing if not selfish. 

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since I was five. I'm here to find him."

"That's really cool!" Nico said. Ori cracked a smile. He pulled that chair back up, bringing a towel to her hair to dry it.

"Your hair's so long." He said, almost in an awed tone.

"I'd been meaning to cut if for a while now, but I was super busy and just never got around to it. He ran to towel up to her scalp before going back dow again to catch the droplets at her split ends.

"That sucks. I don't think I could ever have hair this long. My boyfriend has long hair, but it's not as curly as yours." 

"That so? My mom had curly hair too."

"How does she feel about you traveling the world to find your dad?" The question was innocent enough, but Ori had to swallow down a lump in her throat to speak again. He waited patiently for an answer while he snipped up her hair.

"I-uh-... I never got the chance to tell her. Sadly, she died a few months back in December." His scissors stopped, and his face in the mirror was absolute grief.

"I'm so sorry. Can I ask how?" Ori bit back a confession. The room was too public for a Kira conversation.

"A car crash." She lied. "She got hit on an intersection by a drunk driver." Nico brought a hand up to his mouth to muffle the gasp that escaped. Ori knew he wouldn't;t just be gasping if he knew the truth. 

"That's so awf-"

"Ori! It's so good to see you again!" A head of black hair and familiar brown eyes stared at from within the mirror. It was H.

"Hilla?!" Ori balked. Nico looked confused; H just ignored his presence and looped around to Ori's side.

"Look at you, pampering yourself. I can almost see Ryuzaki swooning." She wiggled her eyebrows, using L's alias from the Kira Case. Ori decided not to ask how she knew. Quil probably had something to do with it.

"Ooo~ who's Ryuzaki?" Nico asked. Ori felt her face catch fire. Red came up from under her collar to rest across her cheeks and nose. 

"He's-uh-he's-"

"He's Ori's boyfriend. She's just shy when it comes to saying the b-word." 

"I totally get that. When Diego and I started dating, I was super nervous to call him my boyfriend. Apparently, my mom was the same when she and my other mom got together. Especially to her family." Nico leaned down to whisper in Ori and H's ears. "They're very Catholic." 

"That sucks." H said, rising from her kneeling position next to Ori. Nico just shrugged.

"They've gotten over it. We even visit them in America every year for a few weeks every year."

"What does your other mom do?" Ori asked. Nico seemed all too happy to answer. 

"Oh! She's a doctor! Cool, huh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.”  
> ― William Shakespeare


	3. We Like Food

Even though Ori said she didn't care what Nico did to her hair, she was glad when he didn't slap any dyes in it. It was shorter now, settling just above her shoulder. He had teased most of it over to one side, only to mess it up shortly after, claiming messy hair matched her messy clothes. Ori ignored how that sounded like something Misa would say.

As much as Ori hadn't liked Misa, she had given good advice about her relationship with Lawliet, and she was only trying to help when she dragged Ori to get new clothes. She was just a lot to handle all at once. Sometimes she wondered if she had been like that.

She hasn't seen Misa since Light's death, but she knew she had been released, mostly because she was the one to order it. There was a big news announcement all over the world about her release. Mogi had purposefully let it slip that the evidence they had against her had been faulty. After spending so much time trying to keep her 'behind bars', Ori had no doubt that he was going to take the brunt of a lot of criticism, and she appreciated that. 

"There!" Nico stated proudly as he unwrapped the cloth from around Ori's neck. "All done." He proudly held a ponytail of Ori's discarded hair, something he had decided on sometime after H had arrived. Her hair was so long that he had recommended on a donation, and Ori had just shrugged and said 'sure'. 

She ran a hand through the layers, surprisingly pleased when she found that her fingers slid right through the mess. Normally, her fingers would get tangled and she'd have to scissor her fingers through until she was freed. 

H wolf-whistled teasingly, mouth quirked up to a smirk.

"Not bad, Nanase. Ryu would faint."

"He would not and you know it!" Ori slid off the chair, pulling a small stack of the cash Quil had given her. She kept most of the money in her suitcase, tucked in an area where no one who didn't know it was there would find it. 

"How much do I owe you?" 

"One-hundred forty-four euro, please!" He said brightly with a blinding smile. What was up with these people and their intense smiles? 

She fingered through the cash and slapped it in his hand, running more hands through her hair. It felt so light. It was weird. 

H was snickering the whole time while holding the door open. 

"You look ridiculous. Have you never had short hair before?"

"Not this short, no." She stepped out into the street, once more getting smacked in the face with a big gust of wind. 

"Ack!" Her hair smacked her in the face, much like when it had when she was on her way to take her entrance exams. 

"What the hell?! I thought this was supposed to _stop_ happening when you cut your hair short."

"Hair is hair, Ori." H shrugged. "And hair will do what hair does."

"That makes... absolutely zero sense." H shrugged once more helplessly, and Ori almost wanted to attack her on the street. 

"Have you found anything yet?" She asked at last. Ori shook her head, disappointment forming a pit in her stomach. 

"I can't say I surprised, though. It was like he fell off the face of the Earth, and I don't think 'broadening the scope' is going to fix that when there's literally nothing worth using to find him." She dragged a hand over her face

"It also doesn't help that you don't know Spanish." H quipped. "Maybe if you actually learned, then you could start asking around."

"Yeah, that's true. So far, I only know numbers and 'thank you'."

"I could teach you." She said with an easy smile. "I've got nothing better to do." Their shoes clacked against the concrete of the sidewalk. Ori let her mind linger on the offer. She should just say yes, right? So why wasn't she? It's not like there was anything wrong with H. She was nice and reminded Ori a lot of herself before the Kira Case. 

Maybe that was the problem. When Ori looked at H, with her teasing smile and easy, laid back stature, she saw herself and the person she used to be, and Ori hated that. Light's death was still a fresh wound, and most mornings Ori expected to wake up in her bed back in Japan, the smell of a fresh breakfast sliding under the door and through the cracks, pulling her down the stairs and into her mother's small world that was just the two of them in the house. 

Some mornings she expected to see pale skin and raven black hair, and long, black eyelashes casting shadows over high cheeks. Small smiles that most people missed and dark eyes like water at midnight. That little twinkle in the eye when something came together. 

Instead, she woke up each morning with stress headaches already taking hold, an apple for breakfast, and a small child that couldn't seem to grasp that Ori wasn't tall enough to be a jungle gym. 

When had Ori become so pathetic?

"Oriiiiiiiiiii~!" H was waving a hand in Ori's face. They had both stopped, H's hand on Ori's bicep. "Where'd you go, man?" Ori blinked, and she found her hands shaking. She stuffed them into her pockets. 

"Nowhere," her tone was clipped, and she had to clear her throat before continuing, "and teaching me Spanish would be awesome. Thanks." 

"No problem, buddy." H threw an arm around Ori's shoulders again. H was taller than her, big surprise, but she stooped lower to run a noogie through Ori's-now short-hair. Ori made a noise to surprise and protest and tried to wrestle her off, but she was too strong. Her arms locked around Ori's neck, not tight enough to hurt her, but enough to keep her in the position.

"Lemme go!" Ori found herself saying with a laugh. H promptly did as she said, a triumphant smile plastered over her face. 

"What's that look for?" Ori asked. H just shrugged and continued walking, looking around as if on a crucial search for something. 

"I'm hungry. I heard that there was a taco truck that had really good shit. Come help me find it." At the mention of food, Ori's stomach decided to give a feral cry for help that she had no choice but to comply with. 

"Yeah, I could go for something to eat." She said with a nonchalant tone that didn't hold up at all. She'd been starting to lose weight again. Not because she was working hard, but because she'd been freaking out constantly too much to worry about. Ori always thought she'd be one of those stress eaters, but apparently not. Maybe being half-American was just for show. 

"I didn't ask if you were hungry," H teased. "I said to help me find the food truck." Ori pushed at her again, but the action was half-hearted and did very little.

>< <> ><

They never found the taco truck, but they ended up finding a restaurant with warm yellow lighting that danced on tan bricks. The front was mainly glass and it showed off the round tables covered in creamy white cloth and shiny black chairs. Tapestries hung from the walls in bright, festive colors, but they were less exciting in the soft light. It felt more like a home than a restaurant. Soft and probably expensive.

It was clear that H wouldn't leave without walking inside and eating. It became even clearer when H shoved Ori through the open door. 

"Let's eat! Forget about the taco truck!" The door closed with a pleasant chime. Instantly, they were met with a cheerful man with a white bottom down, black pants, and a crimson waist apron. His mouth opened, and a rush of Spanish came out. Ori felt blindsided. Luckily, H was there with a bright smile.

" _Dos_." She said, holding up to fingers. Really? All that Spanish set up for a one-word answer. Ori was starting to hate Spain. It was beautiful, but way too infuriating to come back annually if you didn't speak the language. 

"I'm starving." H said with a groan. "I'm gonna eat _everything_." Ori let herself spit out a laugh.

"How about you eat half, and I'll eat half."

"No, screw you; I'm eating everything." H picked up the menu, eyes scanning over it before setting it back down again. 

"Know what you want, Ori?" She asked with a smirk. Ori just raised both hands and flipped up her middle fingers. 

"Fuck off," she grumbled tossing her menu at H, who easily caught it.

"Well, they have tacos, that's always a no brainer."

"Tacos," Ori said with a groan. "I miss tacos."

"There, boom, now you got tacos."

"Wow, thanks."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt.”  
> ― Charles M. Schulz


	4. She's Drunk. Very Drunk

Hot wind blew in Ori's face. It threw up sand and dirt at her mouth and she was forced to sneeze and cough to get it out. Sand flies into her eyes; she yelps before rubbing it away with her knuckle. H just laughs. 

Another two months in Spain have passed, and Ori's already gotten really good at Spanish. What can she say? She's a fast learner. Still, they were no closer to finding Ori's father. 

H came and went as she pleased. Leaving during the day and then coming back at night to keep Ori awake with Spanish lessons and theories. Most made sense but were proven pointless as soon as they were put to the test. It was beyond infuriating and Ori was on the verge of pulling her hair out. 

"Maybe he's apart of some mafia and owed money, but, when he couldn't pay it, he had to fake his death and get a new name and practically fall off the face of the Earth." H threw a peanut into the air and caught it in her mouth. 

"But his death was never on the news, and I think that's a little far fetched." Ori cocked her brows at H. "The mafia? Really? Which mafia would he have joined anyway?" H shrugged and threw another nut, this one bouncing off the corner of her mouth and landing a few feet away. H pouted at it, then turned to Ori. 

"How would I know _that_? I don't know which mafia would catch your dad's eye. Russian, Mexican, Dixie Mafia, the Geovanie Family, National Crime Syndicate."

"Most of those are in America."

"America's a mess, man, I don't know what to tell you." Ori dragged her hands over her face. What was even the point of doing this? For over fifteen years of her life, Daisuke's been gone. He might as well be dead, so why was she trying so hard to find him? What was the point? What was she going to get out of it? Disappointment? Rejection? Actual answers? It was a cold case. Actually, it wasn't even a cold case because there was never even a real case to begin with. What had Ori been thinking? She couldn't do this.

"Hey, Ori," H called out. Ori looked her way, only to be dowsed with the remainder of the peanuts in the bag.

"Dude, what the _fuck_?!" Ori spluttered. Nuts landed in her hair, the pools in her clothes, and her lap. She stood up to shake them off. "What the hell, man?"

"Why are you so serious all the time? Wammy told me you were, like, super energetic and goofy."

_That was before my mom was murdered by my dead best friend._ Ori bit back. Instead, she went for a deep breath. A small amount of tension left her body and she dropped back into her chair. 

"Things change." In her own ears, her voice was ice cold. She was starting to act like Light, but even Light had had his moments of messing around. 

_I miss him._ She found herself thinking. Was that okay? Was she allowed to miss him after everything he did to her, to everyone? Maybe she didn't miss him, but she missed the person he used to be. Before the mess he'd left her scrambling to clean up even after all the time she's had. 

"Na~na~seeeeee~!" H was shouting in a sing-song voice. Ori lifted her head to stare at her through tired eyes.

"What?" She all but snapped. H ignored her tone with an easy smile. She found a peanut on the side of her chair and threw it at Ori. It bounced off her nose and clattered to the floor. Ori wasn't amused. 

"We're getting nowhere with this; how about we go to a bar for a few hours, relax, and then come back with a fresh mind."

"Our minds won't be fresh if we're drunk." 

"Oh, I meant after we get over our hangovers tomorrow!" H was grabbing for a pair of clothes in her suitcase. She bounced into the bathroom with a smile and a pep in her step.

"Hey, I never said yes!" Ori shouted. H stopped her weird jump-walk and turned on Ori. Her brown eyes were intense. 

"Listen, we've been doing this for over two months now, and we've found nothing. Let's take a break, relax, have some fun, and then we'll come back to it." H took a spare sock and threw it at Ori. It landed on her head. "Who knows, maybe we'll find something there." And with that, she closed the door behind her, but her voice still came through the wood. 

"And find a pair of clothes. We're not going to a bar with you in your pajamas." Ori decided that, in that moment, she never truly escaped Misa Amane. 

>< <> ><

The place they stood in front of looked more like a speakeasy than a legitimate bar. Apparently, H knew Ori didn't have a driver's license and knew of this back door place that would basically serve anyone as long as you didn't look like a toddler. That fact didn't ease the seemingly permanent tension in Ori's shoulders. 

With a flashing smile, H walked to the door and knocked on it rhythmically. 

_Tap. ta-tap tap. Tap. Tap._

The door opened into darkness, but down what seemed like a long hallway, Ori could see strobe lights and hear loud bass music. 

"This isn't a bar," Ori said flatly. "This is a club." H just shrugged without a word and stepped inside, already knowing that Ori would follow. She did, but not before swearing under her breath in Spanish and flipping H the bird behind her back. 

As soon as they made it down the hallway, Ori immediately hated the place. It was filled with kids who couldn't be over the age of sixteen, smelled of sweat, hormones, and booze, and Ori was sure that the group of kids in the corner were either having sex, doing drugs, or both. 

"This place sucks; it's shady as hell." 

"Oh, loosen up, Ori. When was the last time you ever had any real fun?" H threw an arm over her shoulders. Ori was becoming annoyed with how much she was doing that.

"I honestly couldn't tell you, but this isn't my ideal definition of fun."

"I can't help but feel like your definition of fun is a jigsaw puzzle."

"I hate puzzles, how dare you." The walked down the metal stairs, H already catching eyes in her short shorts and off the shoulder t-shirt. Her hair was like an inky waterfall and her ivory skin had the lights bouncing off it. Ori was sure she looked like a hobo next to her in her jeans and fleece sweatshirt. It was warm, but Ori felt safer wrapped up in clothing. 

"They don't check I.Ds here, so get whatever you want." H shouted in her ear over the loud music. 

"Yeah, I can tell." H bumped shoulders with her. Ori wanted to ask how she knew about this place, but she felt like she was going to be scared of the answer. 

As if being able to read her mind, H jumped into the whole story. It was bloody and gruesome and far more information than Ori needed, so she figured she'd leave that story out when she saw Lawliet again. 

"Tequila," H told the bartender as they sat into the sticky, metal stools, "on the rocks." Ori refused to acknowledge whatever was making them sticky. It didn't take long for the bartender to slide H's drink in front of her, then he turned to Ori. He young, no older than twenty-seven. It was hard to tell was color his hair was, but it was dark. 

"What do you want?" He asked gruffly. Ori just shook her head. 

"Nothing. I'm fine." H quickly downed her drink and got in Ori's face. The smell of alcohol was faint, but it was there. 

"Oh, come _on_ , Ri-Ri-"

"-Ri-Ri?"

"Relax a little; you've been so stressed lately, just chill out." 

"I'm still stuck on the nickname you just gave me." H smacked her hands on either side of Ori's face, eliciting a dull 'ow' from her. 

"What would Ryuzaki say if he knew you were here?" Ori could tell she was trying to find some way for her to drink too, but all it did was make Ori smirk down at her. Amused. 

"He would ask how I got in this situation and recommend that I leave." While Ori was talking, H had requested another drink and Ori was afraid that she hadn't heard her. But as she took a drink and set the glass back down, she nodded. 

"Oh shit, you're right. That guy's such a buzzkill sometimes." Ori had to give her that. She loved Lawliet with every fiber of her being, but he did tend to be a buzz kill, especially when they first met. 

Ori _did_ feel upset that she was the serious one now sometimes. She wasn't used to it and she didn't like it. She wanted to be able to relax, not be so tense. 

With a low groan, she brushed H off her and looked at the bartender, who was still looking at her, waiting. 

"Fine, get me an... armetto sour." She turned to H, who was downing what Ori hoped wasn't her third drink already. "Happy?"

"Very."

Just a little while later, Ori was sipping down a sweet drink that made her head buzz faintly. She wasn't intoxicated; it was clear that H was on the fast track to getting there. She obviously had a high tolerance for alcohol, but she wasn't immune. She continued to attract attention. Men and women alike made their way over throughout the night, 'discreetly' rubbing their bodies all over H, who was either too nice, too oblivious, or too drunk to tell them to fuck off. Ori had to be her savior repeatedly. She ended up with more stink eyes than she could count. It was ridiculous. 

"Ri-Ri~!" H shouted as she hung off Ori like a drunken monkey loosely clinging to its branch. "Ri-Ri, how drunk are you?" Her voice was unnecessarily loud, even in their loud environment. "I feel like I'm pretty drunk, but I don't know how drunk _you_ are because you don't look very drunk-" she continued to ramble until Ori wanted nothing more than to slap duct tape over her mouth. 

"Hilla, _please_ , I'm begging you. Shut up." Ori didn't feel relaxed at all. If anything, she was more stressed out than before. She had had only one drink to appease H and get her out of Ori's face, which had worked, but she didn't drink anything else after that. She needed to be sober enough to get the too of them back to the small apartment they more or less shared. 

When they finally stepped outside and the hot Spain air felt worlds cooler than the hot mosh pit inside, H stopped. She was sweating, they both were, and her hair stuck to her face in wet tendrils. 

"Hilla, what's wrong?" Ori stepped closer. H's chocolate eyes locked on her; glazed and far away. The air grew hotter as H leaned closer into Ori's space. She smelled of sweat, alcohol, and summer. Hands snaked around to clutch Ori's too warm sweatshirt at the sides, and her breath hitched. H all but collapsed into her, head tucked into the crook of her neck, panting. Ori blinked deftly, face still straight and body rigid. She didn't know what to do here, nor was she completely sure what was going on at all. 

"Honey," H's voice was thick with sleep as Ori felt her smile against her shoulder. Ori sucked in a breath and clamped her hands over H's shoulder, pushing her back. 

"Nope! You are _not_ falling asleep here. We're getting back to the hotel and you're sleeping this off." She walked behind H to push her forward and to hide just how red her face was. 

_I hate Spain._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "In wine there is wisdom, in beer there is Freedom, in water there is bacteria."  
> ― Benjamin Franklin


	5. It Was Only A Kiss

Ori had no experience dealing with drunk people before H. It didn't take long for her to realize that she was both happy and frustrated that she had none. Happy because dealing with someone as drunk as H sucked, and frustrated because she didn't know what to do. Hilla was heavy, sweaty, and wouldn't shut up. She babbled incoherently in Ori's ear all the way back to her hotel room. She was drooling all over herself and acted like a toddler. Ori considered leaving her in the street several times, only to grip her legs tighter when she thought about all the creeps in the alleyways who would jump on H the moment they were given the chance. 

H was needlessly loud too. When she got bored with making random noises, she resorted to shouting and singing at the top of her lungs. They passed a convenience store and Ori wondered how mad H would be in the morning if she woke up with tape stuck over her mouth. 

When they finally made it back to Ori's room, she dropped H unceremoniously on her bed and began rifling through the cabinets for painkillers. She didn't find any and instead decided that she would let H ride through a killer hangover when she woke up. 

"Naaaaaaa~naaaaaaa~seeeeeeeee~!!" H shouted from her place on the bed. Coming out of the bathroom, Ori saw her lying starfished out. Sweat plastered her dark hair to her forehead. 

"What?" She asked dryly. Ori was all ready for this night to be over, even if she knew that she would have to sleep on the floor with the way H was taking up all the room. Not that she wanted to share a bed with a sweaty drunk girl anyway. 

H struggled sitting herself up, pushing uselessly at the plush, white comforter with her limp noodle arms. Ori rolled her eyes and helped H into a sitting position. Her dark eyes were glazed over and she was looking at Ori with a lax expression. 

"You good there, bud?" She asked with a loose smirk. H stayed silent, gazing at Ori sleepily. It felt like a staring contest. 

Then H lunged forward with surprising speed and covered Ori's lips with her own. 

Ori lurched back in surprise, but H held fast. She cupped Ori's jaw with one sweaty, yet strong, hand, fingers curling under the skin, while the other gripped tight onto her arm. Ori's eyes were wide, trying to pull away. The only thing she could think about was Lawliet. A picture of him had plastered itself in her mind. Soft, intense black eyes and shaggy raven hair. Pale skin shadowed by the sharp contrast of dark eyelashes. Guilt coiled into a knot in her stomach, even after she was finally able to rip herself away, chest heaving heavily.

H, face still drowsy and eyes drooped, fell back against the bed, falling asleep instantly. Ori couldn't tear her eyes away, but she couldn't keep looking. She felt like she was going to throw up. She had to leave. She had to get out. 

Get. Out.

It was late; Ori was sure that she was exhausted, but her mind was buzzing with an unsettling energy. 

She stumbled around the room, yanking stray clothes off the floor and stuffing them into an open suitcase. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe it would blow over and H wouldn't remember a goddamn thing, but it didn't matter. She hadn't pulled away fast enough. H was drunk, for fuck's sake, Ori could've overpowered her easily. 

>< <> ><

By the time the sun was peaking over the horizon and lighting up the world in golds and reds, Ori was settled in an airplane, set for Bolivia. She decided that when she saw Lawliet again, she'd leave this part of the story out. He didn't need to know about her first trip to Spain. Didn't need to know what she'd done. 

As the plane began to vibrate under her and she buckled herself into her seat, she wondered how H was doing. She felt bad for leaving her there in that hotel room all by herself. Ori had left no note, no explanation, no trace that she had ever been there. H would wake up alone in a sticky pile of her own cold and drying sweat soaked into the comforter with a splitting headache, wondering where Ori was and possibly wondering why she was gone. 

The scariest part was knowing, somewhere in the far corner of Ori's mind, that she had liked it, even just a little. It was solid and warm and soft. Ori knew that she liked girls too, but she'd never actually kissed one, or been kissed _by_ one. But the issue wasn't that she'd kissed a girl and liked it. The problem was that she still loved Lawliet with every ounce of her being. 

Her ears popped as they climbed the sky, higher and higher. But her heart felt like it was sinking, crawling slowly and painfully into her stomach, hugging the guilt tightly until Ori thought she was going to vomit all over herself. 

Why was it such a big deal? It was only a kiss, one she didn't even want, so why did she feel like she'd done something completely horrible?

The person next to her was already asleep by the time they had leveled out and were flying smoothly. She found herself jealous of him, knowing that she would be wide awake for some time. 

She wondered when the guilt would go away if it went away at all. If she would ever be able to look at Lawliet and not think of the feeling of H's lips on her's. Or if she could ever look at H and not think of how she hadn't pulled away fast enough while she was intoxicated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Everybody ends up kissing the wrong person goodnight."  
> -Andy Warhol


	6. Cartel De Santa Cruz

About an hour into Ori's flight, she was finally able to fall asleep. The adrenaline had long worn off and the realization that she hadn't gotten any sleep finally pushed itself forward to the front of her brain and her eyes grew heavy and slip closed. The music in her ears pulsed lazily, acting as a lullaby that pulled her even further into sleep's warm embrace. 

When she woke up again, the sun was higher in the sky and a different song was playing. Her neck was cramped and her back ached. She was already missing that comfortable hotel bed H had been sleeping in. 

Ori could still see her in her mind. Spread out like a starfish, snoring away carelessly. Or maybe she was already awake, looking around, scratching her head and wondering what happened or why Ori was gone. Or maybe she remembered, and she knew why Ori had left. Would she feel guilty or not? H didn't seem the kind of person who even _knew_ how to feel guilty, but Ori supposed that didn't mean she couldn't. Would she think the same thing Ori did? Would she immediately think of L and know that she had fucked up? That they both had? 

Ori blushed at the memory of the wet slide of H's lips nuzzling between her own. It was odd how her heart had stuttered at the memory. The same way her heart stuttered when L kissed her or wound his long arms around her middle and buried his nose in the crook of where her neck met her collar bone. That warmth in the pit of her stomach that flowered and flourished with every touch. It was a stupid thought and it was equally stupid to feel something like that; Ori didn't hesitate to crush it like a small bug. 

There was still another hour before her plane would land in Bolivia. Stretching out the crook in her neck, Ori reached for her phone.

**_~You~ Hey, did you tell him where I went yet?_ **

It didn't take long for her to get a response. She was about to slip the tiny little rectangle back into her pocket when it vibrated again. 

**_~WamBam~ I did not. I was not sure if you wanted me to share that information._ **

**_~You~ You can. Just leave out the first trip to Spain._ **

**_~WamBam~ If I may ask, did something happen?_ **

**_~You~ Kinda? It's not a big deal, I just don't want him to know._ **

**_~WamBam~ Did Hilla do something she shouldn't have? She can be quite a handful, especially when given alcohol._ **

Ori scoffed at the text line. 

_A handful? Understatement of the year._ She shoved the phone back into her pocket without responding. Not even Wammy needed to know what happened.

>< <> ><

By the time they settled over the capital of Bolivia, the sun was almost peaking in the middle of the sky. Her growling stomach only confirmed that it was noon and time to eat. The steady stream of people exiting the plane pushed her into the airport, where people were talking loudly to be heard over each other. There was a food court almost directly across from her, but from what she heard about the food in airports, she decided it would be better to wait until she at least got to a fast food place. 

She watched little kids jump around their parents and chase each other around the stuffed chairs as she passed by. She had been able to do something like that not a year ago. She wanted desperately to be like that again. She had been joking around with Lawliet and Quil the day before she left. Granted, it might have been a way to cope with the funerals, but she had felt happy nonetheless. Now, she was almost on the other side of the world and she'd never felt more miserable. 

Her thoughts were cut short when she was knocked on her ass by something solid. 

"Hey, watch where you're going!" A deep voice said above her. She looked up to see a man in a dark suit and a cigar hanging loosely from his fingers. He wore a gold chain and curling frown. Ori brought herself back up to her feet, readjusting her bag. 

"Sorry about that." She forced out. Ignoring the man's rude tone. Her Spanish still wasn't great, but she was hoping it would be enough to get the guy to forgive her and leave. 

"What's up with your shitty Spanish?" The man gruffed. 

' _Well, shit_.'

"I spent three months in Madrid trying to learn, but I'm from Japan. The language is very different." The man's spotless black shoes squeaked briefly against the tiled floor. His eyes were narrowed in suspicion. 

"What were you doing in Madrid?" He dropped his voice low, making it gravely. How had Ori found herself in this situation?

"Just wanted to see the world." She said with an easy smile. The man shifted his arm and she saw a gun tucked into the waist of his creasless slacks.

' _Oh shit. Oh shit. OH. SHIT.'_

"You left Japan without learning Spanish first? What kind of person leaves that unprepared?" He was closer into her space. Suddenly it made sense. The perfect clothes, the gold chain, the gun, the relentless suspicion. 

_Cartel de Santa Cruz._

This man was apart of the Bolivian drug cartel.

"It was a surprise trip. One I didn't plan on taking." She was lying to a member of the mafia. Ori was going to die. This was it. Her entire life had led to this moment. She was never going to find her dad. He was never going to know about Vivian, and that was just based on the assumption that he was still alive. It was true that she hadn't planned on coming here, but everything else was a lie!

The man leaned closer still, their noses almost brushing. The smoke from his cigar curled into the air and up Ori's nose. She resisted the urge to sneeze. She could see it now. Snot and germs all over this man's face while he dragged her from the terminal to shoot her into the parking lot. Ori wanted to cry. She didn't, but she wanted to.

"You look familiar." All fear was swept away by those words and replace with confusion. Okay, maybe the fear was still there. Maybe the fear had been ramp up to a hundred, but that wasn't the point! She was confused. 

"Maybe I just have one of those faces." She said unconvincingly with shaky, nervous laughter. She'd go back to Japan. She would. She'd forget all about finding Daisuke and go back to Lawliet. Back to her home. Back to away from here. 

"No..." he leaned back, thinking. He took a long drag from his cigar and released a breath with a puff. It came out big and whispy and white. "Where have I seen you before? At a party maybe? No, I doubt that." He turned to her with the snap of his fingers, pointing. 

"What's your name?" Now, what was she supposed to do? Does she lie and go by her alias, only to have them dig into her background and learn that she was lying? Or does she tell them her real name and go from there? Well, at least the second option doesn't spell instant death. 

"Ori-" she coughed, "Orien Nanase." Her voice came out squeaky. He turned away from her again. Ori could feel eyes on her. 

"Come with me." He gave her no time t reply and took her roughly by the wrist and led her from the baggage claim. She refused to say that she needed to stay to grab her bags. She could always get new clothes-and holy shit her money was in there!

"I totally will, but all of my clothes and money are in my ba-"

"All of your items will be replaced." He said flatly. 

"Oh! Okay, cool. No doubt, no doubt, no doubt." She stumbled and struggled to keep up with his large strides and long legs. Her mind whirled. She had no idea where she was going or even what this man's name was. 

He tugged her along until they reached a long black limo in which he opened the door to throw her inside-none too gently. He sat in the seat across from her, large arms crossed over his broad chest. He considered her with dark brown eyes turned black under the shade of the car. When the long car started moving, Ori knew there was no way for her to get out of this situation. 

"You don't look like you're from Japan, Ms. Nanase." The man said. Ori swallowed heavily. _Ms. Nanase_. Lawliet used to call her that.

"My mother's from America. She has some very strong genes." The man hummed but said nothing more for a long minute. 

"Tell me, Ms. Nanase, have you any relation to a man named Daisuke Nanase?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “For a storyteller, an open ending leaves much room for imagination; for the inquisitive reader, however, it is a source of great anxiety.”  
> ― Joyce Rachelle


	7. Where Is He?

There was a moment of silence. A long moment. A feeling hung heavy in the air. Heavy in Ori's mind and throat. This man knew a Nanase. He knew _Daisuke_ Nanase. The name rang a bell in Ori's mind that really didn't need to be rung. She knew who that name belonged to. The face was foggy, but the outline was clear in her mind. It wasn't the day he left, but she remembered his figure being shadowed and darkened by the sun streaming through the doorway as he went to leave for work. She remembered rough hands gently carding through her curls. She remembered heavy, booming laughter that filled the room without effort. The memories were far away, like staring through a mist, but they were there nonetheless. 

"Do you know him or not?" The man groused. His voice shook through Ori's haze and forced her to blink. He stared at her expectantly. Clearly, this was a man who wasn't used to asking more than once. 

"U-uhm, yeah," her own voice came out weak and croaky as if a frog were speaking instead of her. She cleared her throat with a cough. "Y-yeah, I know him." The man released a huff and gazed out the window. "I'm sorry, I never caught your name." She leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. The man laughed. 

"You'll know if you ever need to know." Ori opened her mouth to speak. To demand this man's name. It was what she would've done before. She would've pestered until either he told her or she had a gun pressed firmly against her forehead. Okay, maybe it was good she wasn't going to do that. 

"How did you know Daisuke?" The man was in the middle of taking a long drag from his cigar. He released a puff of white-gray smoke and shifted in his seat. He seemed to be thinking. 

"He used to be a professor of physics in a college nearby. My youngest had him. Good man, very social." He said it with a fond smile. 

"Do you know where he is now?" She asked. Her question went unanswered as the limo slowed to a stop in front of a squat building. It was a dark brick, looking almost burnt. The door opened and the man roughly pushed her out onto the sidewalk. Ori shivered as a gust of wind swept across the street. It was a lot colder in Bolivia than it had been in Madrid. Ori hadn't expected that. Which was stupid, because there was an entire ocean between the two. 

Wait-there was an entire ocean between Madrid and Bolivia. Ori arrived at around six in the morning and her plane landed just a little while ago. She had thought that it was noon when she landed, but she'd actually never seen the sun right over the plane. 

Ori swiveled around to find the sun. She found it hanging in the air much lower than she thought it would be. She turned to the driver of the car. 

"Excuse me," she scooched closer with an embarrassed smile, "can you tell me what time it is?" The driver gave her a long, bored stare before fishing into his pocket for his phone. Flipping it open for a brief moment, he read the time and repeated it back to her. She straightened up from her spot, leaning back with an even more strained smile. Three-twenty-two. That... that was way past noon. 

Rubbing her temples, Ori began to think there was a reason she hadn't found any clues to Daisuke's whereabouts until now. She had somehow turned into a complete moron!

_I think I used too many brain cells working on that case_. She thought with an audible groan. She thanked the driver, and then something gripped her collar and yanked her back towards the building. It was the man. 

"Hurry up." He snarled. Ori nodded vigorously and turned to walk forward. As they walked closer to the building, shivers ran down Ori's spine. She felt like-something... something was watching her. When she turned her head, She didn't see anybody, but when she went to duck under the man's arm to go inside, she heard something-some _one-_ laugh. Not just laugh; cackle. A familiar deep, rasping cackle that had her mind spiraling. The door closed behind her and she moved to the windows, watching, waiting. Waiting for what, though. Was she waiting for dark, raven wings and spikey black hair? Was she waiting for blood-red eyes that knew exactly when she was going to die? The answer was obviously yes. But as she looked outside with the sun shining through the windows, it was clear that he would only be found if that was what he wanted; he was nowhere to be found. 

"I hate that guy." She grumbled under her breath. 

"Who do you hate?" A very cheery and very feminine voice said in her ear. Ori jumped back, heart racing as she looked at a woman with long dark hair and fancy clothes. She flipped her hair back and something whispered in the back of her mind. 

_Misa-Misa. Misa-Misa. Misa-Misa._

There was another one. Oh God, there was another one! Whatever Ori did in her past life, she was sorry for it. She would apologize a thousand times-a million-if it meant she could get out of this situation. 

"No one," she answered hastily, "just an old friend of mine." The girl flipped another lock of hair over her shoulder, showing off her tanned, slender neck. She just gave a low hum in the back of her throat and proceeded to reach for Ori's hand. She had to fight herself so she wouldn't yank the appendage back. 

"My name is Veronica, it's so nice to meet you!" Her voice was high. Not as high as Misa's had been, but high enough to almost be annoying. She reminded Ori of that one nice girl on the volleyball or basketball team. Ori didn't know why, but the girl's always seemed to hate those who weren't exactly like them. What was up with that? Girls were awful. 

"Uhh-" Ori said intelligently, "I'm Ori." Ori's hand had been taken in Veronica's warm grasp and was shaken up and down violently. Veronica's long red nails were digging slightly into the back of Ori's hand. 

"That's such a cool name! Come on, you must have had a long flight; let's get you something to eat and drink!" She tugged Ori's towards the bar. A very tired looking young man was seated behind it, stacking cups and glasses on the many shelves decorated with neon and LED lights. 

The longer Ori stayed, the more she wanted to leave. She wondered how she'd gotten into this situation so fast, but she couldn't leave. The mystery man who had dragged her to the bar knew her father and possibly knew where he was. She needed to stay until she could get some real answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm fully aware that what is happening with the mafia right now is trash, but honestly, it's not gonna last long. 
> 
> “It is very important to understand why those annoying people annoy you and then figure out where that fits into your world.”  
> ― Auliq Ice


	8. How'd He Do It, Shrimp?

Okay, so yeah, Ori knew she needed to stay to get answers and _nothing_ else. It was strictly business.

But, fuck, these people knew how to party. It wasn’t like the shitty rave bar H forced Ori to go to with the pulsing music that you could barely hear or the constant buddies rubbing up against you whenever you tried to get somewhere else.

No, this party was Mexican music playing over the bar speakers with shrill trumpet sounds and heavy beats of a trombone. People cheered along to the music but mostly stayed in their seats, respecting everyone else’s personal space. That girl from before, Veronica, had found an open space on the floor to dance wildly on her toes, spinning a twirling with her hair spinning around her. One guy was passed out on the bar, his drink tipped over and spilling onto the floor.

Ori was nursing her own cocktail—her second one, glad that it didn’t actually taste like alcohol, trying desperately to get the attention of the man who brought her to the bar.

“Hey,” she waved in his face, admittedly a little tipsy. “Heyyy~!” Her body was buzzing pleasantly and her vision was dim around the edges, but she ignored it. The man turned to her with a smirking expression, his brows tipped up.

“What can I do for you, Shrimp?”

“Shrimp?!” She spluttered, reeling back out of his face. She quickly shoved the nickname from her brain. “Hey, where’s ma dad?” She tried to narrow her eyes, but she was sure it just looked like she couldn’t see.

“You’re a lightweight, aren’t you?” The man asked with an amused laugh. He patted her on the head with a bear paw of a hand. Ori pushed his hand away lazily with barely working arms.

“Answer the ques—stion.” Her tongue was lax in her mouth. Her words were definitely more slurred than what she was hearing.

“I can’t say I know where he is, but I know that he quit his job just over two years ago. Apparently, someone was after him.” Someone was after Daisuke? Who?

“He wouldn’t say who, just that he had to get out of Bolivia as soon as possible.” Had Ori asked her question out loud?

“Yes, you did.” Well, shit, maybe she needed to relax.

“Hey!” She waved in his face again, and this time he sighed at the interruption and set down the drink that had been on its way to his mouth.

“What?”

“What’s your name?” He sighed again and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes tight. Apparently, Ori was an annoying drunk. If she was sober, she’d feel bad for bugging him so much, but she barely knew what she was saying at this point.

“Antonio.”

“I’m gonna call you Tony.” Ori leaned her head on her arms and slouched down on to bar table. Tony sighed and swung his head back to take a drink. When he set his glass down again, it was empty and he was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I hope you’re not like this when you’re sober.”

“I used to be.” An unpleasant feeling swelled in the pit of her stomach and she dowsed it with another long sip from her drink.

“Aren’t you a little young to be talking like that?” She was probably was. No, she _definitely_ was, barely twenty-years-old and she was talking like she was a single dad who lost everything in a divorce that wasn’t her fault, but _didn’t_ she lose everything? Her mom, her best friend, her lover, her lover’s dad—god that sounds like something else. Never mind.

“Yeah.” So maybe she was a depressed drunk too.

“You’re a strange one, Shrimp, I’ll tell ya that.” He ruffles her hair again, heavy hand knocking her head down. She was glad her chin was being pillowed by her arms. Hitting the counter would hurt like a bitch. “So what’s got you so depressed? Everything’s been pretty calm since that Kira fellow disappeared. I don’t even know what happened, but I’m glad it’s over. I wouldn’t be able to handle any more casualties from my guys.”

Now, Ori wasn’t a gossiper. Meaning, she didn’t go around telling random people shit about her life when she wasn’t intending to stay. But listen, she was drunk and tired and she lost _all_ of her stuff. So she confided in Tony. Told him about working on the Kira Case and her relationship with Lawliet, making sure to keep his real name out of the retelling. Even when drunk, she wasn’t an idiot.

She told him who Kira had been and that Light had killed Vivian. Later on, she wasn’t sure whether or not she went into detail about just _how_ Light had killed, but Tony never laughed at her or told her that she had ‘quite the imagination’ like most adults would if she had, so she supposed maybe not.

“And now I’m here. Drunk and alone with a bunch of members from the mafia with none of my stuff. God, I’m pathetic.” She let her forehead fall on the counter, arms hanging loose at her sides. Tony was silent, either drinking in the information like his liquor or asleep and he didn’t hear a thing, to begin with.

When he spoke, Ori was relieved. She really didn’t want to have spilled out the story of the last year and a half for nothing.

“Well shit, Shrimp. That’s a hell of an adventure for a kid as young as yourself. You barely look over sixteen.”

“I’m twenty.” She said dryly. She was eyeing a plate of chips and guacamole just a few feet down the counter, occupied by a man with a solemn expression that matched hers. She decided to let him have it if he was so sad.

“So let me get this straight,” Tony started, “you’re best friend was Kira—which you had no knowledge of—was hunting him down for about a year and he killed your mom, and then he killed himself?” Was that was she had told him. She barely remembered what she had said. Guess there was an awake part of her brain looking out for her.

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “Shot himself in the head through the mouth. He knew he couldn’t win when we had the evidence stacked against him and he just… gave up.” It was an easy lie. A reminder that she wasn’t as hopeless as she thought she was. She still had a few tricks up her sleeve. “His girlfriend was in on it, though not at the beginning. I had to act as a human lie-detector before she tried to bite her tongue off.” Tony just grunted. The bartender was refilling their drinks. Ori hadn’t even noticed that she had finished her second one.

She didn’t expect Tony to be all that surprised. He was part of the mafia, he’d done and seen worse on practically a daily basis. Another part of the reason why Ori wanted to leave as soon as possible. Truly, she wasn’t all that safe. Sure, they may let her have a drink or three, but she was an outsider coming out of nowhere. They didn’t know her, and therefore, they wouldn’t trust her.

“How did he do it?” Tony asked, suddenly crushing the silence that was settled between them. A plate of chips slid in front of her and the bartender gave her a sly smile. He must’ve seen her drooling over the chips before.

“Huh?” She asked, popping one into her mouth and crunching down on it loudly. God, it felt so good to eat. She hadn’t put anything in her stomach for two days and that was _far_ too long for her taste.

Tony stood up from his seat. He was suddenly tall and menacing. A shiver raced down Ori’s spine as his eyes were shadowed out like an anime villain.

“I lost a lot of good men thanks to that bastard. The least you can do it tell me how he did it.” She shrunk down lower in her seat, trying to make herself appear as small as humanly possible. People were looking their way now. No doubt wondering what the commotion was about. Even the music stopped, almost like a record scratch. The rhythmic sound of Veronica’s shoes stomping elegantly against the ground promptly ceased.

“I’m sorry,” she said pathetically, “but even if the case is over, that information is classified.” It wasn’t, at least she didn’t think it was; she and Lawliet never talked about whether or not it should be, but they wouldn’t believe her if they told her the truth and she doubted she could come up with a lie believable enough for them. Someone mysteriously killing people with heart attacks would always be hard to explain away, even if you knew the truth.

“You’re standin’ in a room with a bunch of killers, and you wanna play the Classified Card? You got balls, Shrimp.” Tony’s glass clattered on the table noisily, the ice clacking against the sides. Sweat was _pouring_ down Ori’s back. Her fight or flight reflexes were telling her to run, but she’d never get out the door fast enough.

She was yanked up by the collar of her shirt, feet dangling a foot—at least—off the floor. He was _so_ _tall_.

“Now you listen here, kid, and you listen good—” Ori really wanted to make a joke about taking quotes out of _The Fugitive_ , but that wouldn’t end well. No way she was drunk enough for that, though she was quickly sobering up.

“—you’re gonna tell me how Kira killed or I’m gonna stick my gun between those pretty blue eyes of yours and blow your brains out all over the floor.”

“Okay! Okay, I’ll tell you.” Her voice was nothing more than a small squeak. His grip hand tightened on her shirt and she was trying desperately to find a way to get herself out. All of her ideas ended with her on the floor in a puddle of her own blood before she reached the door handle.

This was nothing like her experience with Vivian. That had been rushed and hectic, terrifying even when she was slipping into unconsciousness. This was a slow build-up. Like a horror movie when the protagonist is walking through a dark hallway and the music is building and building until something eventually happens.

“Light had connections with the police department; his dad was the chief. He gathered a few followers and had them spreading drugs all over the world to prison inmates. Most took them without any reluctance. It was like a cult. The drugs dissolved immediately once they got wet and the symptoms were the same as heart attacks, but they were really just drug overdoses that sped up the heart until it stopped. He told us everything before killing himself.” Holy shit. Ori hoped with every fiber of her being that this worked. She was panicking and the tall tale wasn’t her best, but it had to be enough. _Had_ to be, otherwise, she was a goner.

Tony pulled her closer until their noses were almost touching. She could smell smoke and alcohol on his breath. His mouth curled upward into a sneer. He dropped her, just dropped her on the floor and her legs gave out under her. She went collapsing on the floor onto her back. Antonio stood tall over her.

“You think you can lie to me, Shrimp?” He growled. No one moved. No one moved to help him, and no one moved to help her. Everything was deathly still.

Without another word, Antonio reached under his coat and pulled out his gun. He cocked it, pulled the hammer back, and pointed it directly at her forehead. The look on his face was almost sympathetic, but his dark eyes were too cold for the look to really mean anything.

Then he pulled the trigger and fired. 


	9. It's Weird That It Happened Twice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should've mentioned this before, but I upload every weekend, maybe every other if I'm not feeling motivated.

When Ori died, she imagined that she'd go out in a blaze of glory, James Bond style. Explosions, flaming cars flying everywhere. That was a badass way to go. 

She never imagined, however, that she'd die from a gunshot to the head surrounded by mafia members with no one else to witness her downfall or speak of it. Her only accomplishment was finding Kira and putting an end to his wrath, but no one would ever talk about that because no one would ever know. Lawliet would know, but he'd never know that she died unless Wammy found out and the possibility of him ever finding out was on the verge of being zero. 

They said that in the final moments just before your death, your life flashes before your eyes, and then while your dying, you live through your whole life in seven minutes, but it's drawn out to feel like your still alive. Ori didn't know about that second one, but she could definitely see what her life had led up to until this point. It only made her more aware of how she wished she could be like she used to. She had fun, she was loud and boisterous, she was easy going and let things roll off her back. Hell, she'd been kicked out of every candy store in the Kanto region of Japan! And now she was so serious and dull. Granted, she got drunk with the mafia members, but look how that turned out. She wasn't feeling so drunk now. 

She saw her time with Vivian and Light, Lawliet and Wammy. She saw the amount of sugar she took into her system and briefly wondered how she hadn't died sooner. She saw the stress and the pain in the midst of the joy and the beauty. Her fights with Lawliet and the intimacy too. She could almost feel the way his long fingers held her hands and his mouth pressed softly against her's. She missed that. Missed it so much that her heart ached just thinking about it. 

She never should've left Japan. She should've just stayed and been grateful for what she had before she ripped herself away for a pipe dream. That knowledge hurt the most. 

But she never imagined that in the midst of her reflection, in the midst of her regretting everything from leaving home to now being on the other side of a gun, that Antonio would miss and hit the guy behind her.

Ori's eyes were wide, Antonio's eyes wider as he stared at the weapon in his hand in alarm like he couldn't believe that he had missed. To be honest, Ori couldn't believe it either. How many people had this guy killed from a further distance, and yet now he couldn't shoot a stationary object from a foot away?

A laugh exploded from her before she could stop it. Yes, she wanted to be more carefree, but she didn't mean when her life was in danger. She just meant that she didn't want to be so stiff when someone was making a joke when she was concentrating on something else. She wanted to be relaxed, not an idiot when her life was on the line. Still, if she stopped now that it would all be for nothing, so she carried on the laugh. Albeit, it was shakier now that she was doing it on purpose. 

"Wow, you can't shoot a still target? That's so pathetic. I feel bad for your mistresses if you're that bad with your aim."

_What am I doing?! This is so suicidal it's ridiculous!!_

Antonio's face was purple. He was sweating and Ori was fairly sure that she wasn't going to live much longer. Who would've thought that her final words would be a snarky comment about a man's inability to pleasure women? 

He pressed the gun right up against her forehead now. The metal was deathly cold where it sat firmly on her skin. 

"Do you think I'll miss if I'm this close, Shrimp?" And then he fired again. This time, he shot a man to his right just as he pulled the trigger again. 

"Yes?" She was feeling a little bit braver now. She had an idea of what was going on and if she was right, she was going to be buying so many apples it would scare people.

"What the hell are you doing, Tony!?" Veronica yelled. She was hiding behind the counter, just her eyes and the top of her silky hair showing. Ori could see that she was shivering horribly. 

"Shut up! It's not my damn fault, the gun's just movi-" he froze midsentence. His eyes bugged out of his skull, a weak, choking noise emitting from the back of his throat. He brought his free hand up to clutch the front of his shirt as he fell backward. His head connected with a barstool with a sickening crack and he flopped to the floor. Around Ori, she heard multiple gunshots paired with the sounds of more body dropping to the ground like flies. She didn't look, didn't want to see the kind of blood and gore that surrounded her. She kept her head ducked low and her eyes squeezed shut for who knows how long. There was nothing but silence and the sound of Ori's own breathing. The scent of blood was already rising in the air from the heat. She could smell it, reminding her of the horrible night so long ago. The thick smell of the wine-colored ichor hanging in the air like a heavy fog. 

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" An unmistakably raspy voice cut through the thoughts storming in Ori's brain. She looked up, eyes traveling far more than they would if she was looking at someone of average height. Her neck craned until she was almost looking directly above her to meet the ruby eyes glinting with twisted mirth. Black lips twisted into the ever-present smile reaching all the way up to his ears showing off crooked yellow teeth. It was a sight worthy of a Stephen King movie, an image that would send anyone else running in fear, but all Ori felt was a relief. 

"Ryuk," she said in a breathless voice that cracked pubescently, "what took you so long?" Her knees were drawn up close to her chest, sweat prickled at her temples and the back of her neck. 

"I just wanted to see how things played out." He shrugged his long arms. "You looked like you were having fun." His smile stretched impossibly wider until it looked like it was coming off his face. Ori scoffed and pulled herself up on shaky legs. 

"I don't know if I'd call that fun. You would, but I don't think so."

"I see you're still a killjoy, though that joke about this guy missing was pretty clever." He nudged Antonio's lifeless foot with his long claws. She didn't respond to that one. She didn't know what to say. Instead, she asked, "why are you here?"

"'M not sure," he shrugged again. "I saw that you left Japan and I was bored so I wanted to see where you were going. It'd be a shame if you died so soon, though."

"You get bored so easily." 

"I've been around for a long time, I've seen everything." He grouched. "Nothing's as fun as it used to be so I always have to go out and _make_ fun. I miss the days of tournaments when you humans would kill each other all the time and people loved it. They betted on it and it was amazing. Now killing is illegal."

"That's what the black market is fo-"

"What the hell?!" A loud voice cut Ori off. It was the bartender and he looked just about ready to piss himself. At first, Ori thought it was because he could see Ryuk, but then she remembered that only people who have already touched the Death Note could see it, then she wondered if he ever touched it without realizing it and fell into a spiral of panic all over again. 

"What the hell happened here?" He swerved around the bar, completely ignoring Ryuk's presence and she knew for certain that he couldn't see him. 

"Uh..." Ori said intelligently, "it was a shoot out."

"What?!" He clearly didn't believe her; she put her hands up in surrender while taking a step back. "Hey, man, I don't know shit about mafia business; they just went crazy."

The bartender pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a hefty sight. "I'm gonna go and give a buddy of mine and call and wait for him outside. Don't. Go. _Anywhere_." He gave her a pointed stare, _daring_ her to disobey his orders and bolt for the door as soon as his back was turned and he was out of sight.

"Y-yeah, I won't leave." Her hands were still in the air and she was sweating even more now. The pits of her sweatshirt were probably stained. That was gross to think about, so she didn't. He stared at her(hopefully not her pits) skeptically as if he was judging whether or not she would leave, which she totally wouldn't. Why would she leave a crime scene where she was the only one alive? Blaspheme.

When he finally turned his back, Ori followed with her eyes until he was completely out of sight. As soon as he was gone from her line of vision, she turned and started rifling through Antonio's pockets. Call her heartless, but he said that he would replace her shit and then tried to kill her. The laws of equivalent exchange and all that shit. It was only fair that she'd take her just deserts. 

"Take his gun," Ryuk said, the joy evident in his voice where he loomed over her, the sound of his feathers now one of the only noises in the room. 

"Why would I take his gun?" She hissed back. She didn't want to risk the bartender coming back because he heard her talking a death god he couldn't see too loud.

"Who knows when you'll need a gun?" 

"I'm really hoping that I won't need a gun."

"Isn't there a saying about needing something when you don't have it and not needing something when you do have it?" Ori really hated that he had a point. She got caught up with the mafia once-briefly-who knows when it'll happen again. 

"Fine, I'll take his gun, but it's not like I know how to use it."

"You're a fast learner; I'm sure you'll figure it out." He said with yet another shrug and a cackle. She knew to turn the safety on-she wasn't a complete moron when it came to firearms-and went to tuck it in her jeans, only to see that wouldn't work. There was a holster on his hip that she quickly wrestled off with fumbling hands. With a gun and a holster in her hands, she started heading to the door, then realized that it was cold outside. She shrugged it off when she decided that taking a dead guy's jacket would be crossing a line she didn't want to touch. Antonio had quite a bit of cash on his person-ahem-so she could always buy a new one. 

"This will be fun," Ryuk said optimistically, "just two pals makin' their way around the world to find a guy who could very well be dead-"

"Not helping."

"-nothing but the clothes on their backs and the will in their hearts."

"There's no way you actually think that."

"Of course not, what do you take me for? I'm a death god; keep up." Ori fixed the holster on her belt loops and tucked her shirt over the weapon. She was glad all her shirts were too big on her, otherwise, the bulge at her hip would be too noticeable. 

"Okay, so Antonio said my dad used to work as a college professor nearby before he left two years ago. There might be someone there you knew him." Ryuk was silent as he floated next to her. He was looking somewhere off into the distance. It was the quietest she's ever seen him. She wondered if he missed Light at all. She did, against her better judgment, but Ryuk has proved himself almost incapable of real human emotions. Was that too callous to say? It sounded right, but she wasn't entirely sure. 

There was still some light left in the day, though not much. The sun was quickly setting and the chill was stronger. Goose flesh raised along her arms as she fought back a shiver. She needed to find a motel or something, somewhere cheap despite the large amount of cash she was carrying. She had it jammed in the waist of her jeans, no doubt crumbled and actively wrinkling. 

"Are you having fun yet?" She asked dryly. 

"Honestly, I am not, but you humans are so fragile that I didn't expect anything more yet."

 _Rude._ Instead, she let herself crack a smile. 

"You know, if I had a nickel for every time I had a near-death experience, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice." Ryuk snorted from above her and gently nudged her shoulder. Well, she was sure that it was gentle for him, but Ori was knocked off balance and had to catch herself before she kissed the sidewalk. 

"You're a strange one, Ori."

"So I've been told." 


	10. Tick Tock Goes The Clock

_Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick... tock._

The clock might as well have been mocking him too. Quilish said he just needed time. Time. He didn't know what time would do, though. What did he need time for? Time to move on? Time to forget? God knows that would never happen. The piece of him she'd taken was much larger than he'd ever care to admit. He just- couldn't let go. It's been about a couple of months now and he was tired of feeling like he couldn't breathe anymore. He wanted to throw himself into another case... just to forget about the fact that he wanted nothing more than to look next to him and find ocean eyes staring back at him, gold-flecked and filled with mirth, but Quilish said he needed to take a break. The Kira case had taken so much from them and out of them. Quilish demanded that he take it slow for a while before jumping into something new, but how long was a while. It was already nearing. He missed the ability to tangle his hands in wild curls, her soft, firm body pressed against his as he held her close. 

_Tick... tock_.

"That damn clock is too loud." He grumbled. Quilish was nowhere to be seen. Most likely busying himself in the hotel's kitchen to make lunch or tea. Whatever, it didn't matter. He wasn't hungry anyway. 

He wanted to know where she was, but every time he asked Quilish to look into it, all he'd say was, "I'm sorry, sir; Ori asked me to keep her whereabouts hidden." It was so infuriating; now that he couldn't work on cases, for the time being, he was left with nothing to do but sit and watch TV and sometimes sleep. He hated sleeping now. When he was with her, sleeping used to be something warm and bordering on angelic. It was when he allowed himself to take in her soft features. When the crease between her brows was gone and the smile lines at her eyes were easier to see. He remembered seeing her lips part gently with each puffing exhale. Her freckles were always lighter in the moonlight.

Lawliet couldn't have that now. He only slept when his body went and betrayed him and he'd wake up in the chair or couch staring sightlessly at the TV. The sound was more like white noise and the lights were blinding in the dark. It was the news, but he wasn't paying any attention to what they were saying. Something about a shootout at a bar in Mexico. It didn't matter. It had nothing to do with her so what was the point. 

"Here's your tea, sir." Quilish placed the cup on the coffee table in front of him with a delicate ' _tink_ '. The clock continued to tick and tock loudly. 

"Can you get rid of that damn clock?" He asked instead of properly thanking him. Quilish frowned but said nothing else. He disappeared once more. Lawliet tried to stretch out onto the couch but just ended up back in his usual curled position. He wanted to find a case. He wanted Watari to give him something. Hell, he'd go for highway robbery at this point. He just needed... _something_.

_Tick... tock._

That fucking clock. Why hasn't Quilish gotten rid of it yet? He crawled off the couch and began making his way to the kitchen, but Quilish was already coming out with a tan enveloped placed delicately between his thumb and the rest of his fingers. His eyes are kind as always, mouth hidden behind his immaculately combed beard.

"What's that?" Lawliet asks. He hopes it's what he thinks it is. He's an addict at this point. He can't eat, can't sleep and he needs something to take the edge off. 

"I figured it's been long enough." He said cryptically, but Lawliet knew exactly what he meant. He tried not to be too hasty in the way he took the envelope from Quilish's hands and goes back to the couch, turns off the TV, and flips open the front flap. It's nothing special, just the murder of a single father and his one-year-old son. Lawliet instantly suspects the mother, but soon finds that there is none. The father is a widower and his wife passed away during child birth. He moves to the desk next to the bed he never uses and flicks on the light. There isn't much information, but he lays it all out. For the first time in months, his heart is pounding, but his mind is at ease. This was exactly what he needed. He almost wants to draw out this case instead of finding the murderer as soon as possible. It's a selfish thought and once that he pushes aside immediately; it still lingers. 

>< <> ><

The investigation is over too soon and Lawliet throws himself into the next one. The murderer of the infant and father was the next most obvious guess. It was a babysitter who was obsessed with the father and child. In his desperation to keep himself busy, he was willing to take the most simple of tasks, now, he was willing to be a little pickier. 

They're in a new hotel now in the heart of Beijing following the kidnapping of a young woman by the name of Gao Liu. Her best friend was the last person to see her before she went missing just over a week ago. Both of her parents passed away when she was a baby and she lived with her grandmother. There are hardly any leads but Lawliet was determined to solve it before the month was over. He had two more weeks before that happened.

He didn't think about her as much anymore. Hardly ever, in fact. It filled him with a kind of peace that he hadn't felt in a very long time. He didn't feel quite whole, but he didn't feel quite so empty anymore. 

_Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick... tock._

He still heard that infernal clock; it never went away, but whenever he asked Quilish to do something about it, the old man would just give him an odd look and nothing would change. Whenever Lawliet decided he would go looking for the clock himself, he'd come up empty and annoyed. He began to wonder if there was even a clock at all. 

He never looked at the bracelet on his wrist. He didn't even want to wear it, but he knew she'd want him to, so he kept it on. Sometimes he'll find himself traceing the indents of the word scribed into the metal. He never thought about doing it, he just would. That was when he touch about her, when he caught himself delicately handling the material. That's when he'd think about her and his heart would clench tightly in his chest. He felt so weak. He hated the way he was feeling and the way she was making him feel with her absence. That's when he would hide that part of himself in a locked box in his chest and hide it away. Away from anyone who would dare to even _think_ about looking at it. 

The problem wasn't her absence, he told himself again and again. The problem was his feelings about her absence. If he could just... _stop_ feeling the way he was feeling then everything would be better. And he wanted to stop, so bad, just until she returned to him again, but he knew that would never happen. She carved out a piece of his soul and took it with her when she left, and as much as he didn't want to miss her, he also didn't want that piece of himself back. It was her's now and she didn't even know it. 

_Tick-tock, tick... ti-tick-tock._

The clock sounded different now. Lawliet raised his head to try to find where the noise was coming from. It sounded broken. 

"Quilish, where is the clock?" Lawliet asked tiredly. Quilish sounded just as tired when he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

"Sir, I'm sorry but there is no clock."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Time is the longest distance between two places.”  
> ― Tennessee Williams

**Author's Note:**

> "Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place?"  
> ― Stephanie Perkins


End file.
